Warped Intentions
by IvoryLilly
Summary: Hermione has had a make over and has decide to take a chance. To tell the boy she loves her true feeling. When he doesn't feel the same she tries to make him jealous, only to find that she didn't really love him. M for a reason.
1. The Truth The Beginning

Chapter One:

The Truth/ The Beginning

You know how people say that no one ever sees themselves the way others do? That's the truth. If people ever saw me, my true self, they would run, and I don't have self image problems.

You may have heard of me, my name is Hermione, Hermione Granger. I'm top of my class in every course; only thing is I don't like school. As shocking as it may be, I don't. I always just hid my face behind the books, I was in hiding and I guess I still am.

But I'm sick of that. While I was visiting the Burrow, Ginny re-did my whole look. My hair is now straight and my teeth have been normal since fourth year. I guess you could say my figure had filled out. I'm fine with how I look, actually scratch that-I'm proud.

If only the rest of my life went as well as my make-over…


	2. Beautiful Mouring

**Disclaimer**: Unless I somehow magically turn into J.K. Rowling in the next few second, I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter.

**A special thank you to my beta-readers:** Linda, my lackey (just kidding) and Jenina a.k.a. Cerulean Asphodel, who is a much better writer than I, check out her writing, http/ Two:

Beautiful Mourning

I woke up that morning to the sun rise; blue, pink, and purple shot over the orange sky.

"Stop being so frigging happy," I thought as I covered my head with her comforter.

"HERMIONE ELIZABETH GRANGER, GET YOUR FUCKING ASS DOWN HERE NOW!" _'Oh shit,'_ I thought, _'Dad's pissed.' _I practically ran down the stairs so father wouldn't get any angrier.

"WHAT THE HELL TOOK YOU SO LONG?" Dad yelled.

"Sorry Daddy, I over slept," I replied in almost a whisper as if trying to somehow make up for my father's screams.

"YOU OVERSLEPT? WHAT THE HELL? I'M NOT GONNA CARRY YOUR ASS AROUND! GROW THE FUCK UP! MAKE BLOODY BREAKFAST FOR ME AND YOUR MOTHER, NOW!"

"Yes sir." I got the eggs and sausage from the fridge and the frying pan out of the cupboard. I turned on their stove and started to brown the sausage; the smell of the meat cooking made the kitchen air even heavier than it had been.

As I was cooking my father hollered at me to hurry up. I said something under her breath about how 'it takes time to cook food', father exploded.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY? WE HAVE TAKEN CARE OF YOU SINCE YOU WERE BORN AND THIS! **THIS** IS HOW YOU REPAY US? I'M DISGUSTED IN YOU!" He slapped me, his child – his only child – across the face. The pain spread like hot fire and the weight of my father's hand caused me to run into the stove, burning my hand on the stove. Dad just sneered.

"Get back to work," my father said in a sinister voice. My face still stung as I finished making breakfast and sprinted up the stairs. I dropped the food off at mother's bedroom door and knocked, knowing she wasn't going to eat it. I then ran up to my own room.

I burst into tears as I locked the door to my room and flung myself onto the bed. Why had this happened? When had my father become like this?

But deep inside, I knew. Mother had been pregnant last year and the baby had miscarried. Mother was no longer able to have kids – she was barren. After the miscarriage she had become an overzealous alcoholic and was increasingly depressed. My mother's face had aged ten years in those short six months since the baby. Her eyes though, they had aged more than that they were old, yet not in the old-and-wise way, just old.

Dad was now unhappy and unkind. His eyes, once loving and understanding, were now spiteful and dark. He had aged in this time as well. My mother was going though her pain alone and in the dark of her room. My father was the kind who made you suffer for his problems; he had never hit me, before this summer.

As I on my bed, I realized that I didn't know these people. This was not my mummy, the one who had taught me how to sew and how to cook, nor was that my daddy, who had taught me how to ride a bike and used to swing her at the playground.

I just happened to glance over at the calendar; I was happy only one and one half more months till I got away from this hell-hole. I glanced over again. _'Oh shit,'_ I thought, _'it's Saturday.'_

I had nothing against the day of course, but it was her dad's day off work and the day her mother went to the psychologist. _'Great,'_ I thought, '_I have to get out of here.'_ Usually when mom was here, he was at least somewhat quiet. Dad was driving Mom to her psychologist, but her doctor, Mr. Martins, was a crack pot and didn't help much at all; he just gave her more of the sleeping pills that she practically lived on.

I threw on a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants; I quickly tied up my running shoes. I wanted to leave before dad got back. If only I could get to Mallory's house and just stay there for a while. _'Too late,_' I thought as the garage door gave its last groan. I heard the kitchen door open. _'Crap'_. I fairly leaped down the stairs, trying to get out of the house.

"Oh, 'Mione," Father called. I hated that I had told my parents about my nickname.

"Dad, I'm going for a jog, I'll be back later."

"No young lady, come over here now!"

"Dad, I'm going for a jog."

"NOW!" I knew better than to argue with my father when he had that tone in his voice.

I was deathly afraid of what would happen next. He would have me do some pointless task, and if it wasn't done to perfection… I got the Belt. I never did anything good enough so I braced myself for it.

'GET IN HERE NOW" he yelled; the way he was so meek around Mother, it made me wonder if he had always been like this on the inside. I quickly walked to the door, not into the room just to the door. He came out of the kitchen with two china cups.

"'Mione," He said, "Sit down." He pointed to a chair across from him.

"Listen… I know that we have been fighting since you came back from school." _'That's an interesting way to put it,'_ I thought to myself. "I'm going to try to work with you, if you'll work with me. Will you?" I shook her head, yes, but somehow… somehow something felt wrong.

We clicked glasses, and drank a toast to a new start, if only I knew how my new life would be. I drank and saw Father watching me intently. I tried to smile at him; I thought, _'Maybe this will work after all.'_ Then the lights were somehow getting darker, I couldn't hear the birds anymore, and the last thing I saw was my father's smirking face, as I sank out of consciousness.

I know it's not exactly a happy story, but I hope you'll tell me what you think. I promise it gets better.

Please review,

Ivory Lilly


End file.
